Sunday, July 31, 2005

i drove up to Santa Clara Friday for the BlogHer conference. it was a 6 hour drive thru the bowels of california. sometimes i forget that cali is actually an agricultural state. a drive thru central california is all the reminder i needed that we are more than los angeles and san fran. there are parts of california that smell like cow. that funk just creeps into your car and LINGERS for MILES. looking at the cows standing there baking in the sun, i wondered, when it is 100 degrees outside like it is now, does the milk inside of them curdle? when we spend too much time in the sun, we say our skin gets "leathery." does their hide actually turn to leather by the end of summer? yeah, i'm real fun on road trips, dontcha know?

i finally get past Cow Funk, CA and then 100 miles up the road i sail into Gilroy, CA. it is the garlic capital of the world and it smells like it, too. the whole town reeks of eau de Olive Garden. just without the all you can eat breadsticks.

so, i finally get to Santa Clara. i am hot, tired, cranky and i needed a shower. and my hair looked funky, and not in a good way, either. really, pretty much like any other day, except i was 400 miles from home. as i start to walk into the hotel, i was accosted by three protesters. they tried to offer me a flyer explaining their cause. i was very polite (i SWEAR i was) and refused the flyer. that's when the girl protester starts SCREAMING at me, "SHAME ON YOU! SHAME ON YOU!! EDUCATE YOURSELF! SHAME ON YOU!" she really needs to work on her sales pitch.

i kept on walking and without turning around, i raised my arm and flipped her off. hey, she pissed me off. then the little peacenik screams at me, "REAL MATURE, MA'AM. REAL MATURE!" i love that she called me ma'am.

now really, what can you be protesting about at a hotel? seriously, what is the hotel doing? slaughtering babies, amputating their feet, coating them in hot sauce and selling the feet as imitation hot wings during happy hour? even if they are, i don't give a damn. i don't like hot wings.

after checking in, i get to my room and find that i am the worst packer in the world. it would be easier to tell you what i did pack, instead of all the things i forgot. one of the things i forgot my hairbrush. all weekend, my hair was just tragic. i have seen homeless people with better hair than i had going on.

i also forgot my razor. today, from the knees down, i am impersonating a Yeti. GGGRRRRR!

i have so much more to tell, but i am EXHAUSTED. so you will just have to wait until tomorrow.

after the blogher conference yesterday, my fellow bloggers and i hung out and bonded. we laughed til we cried, we shared, we cared and many incriminating photos were taken. oh yeah, we also got sidewalk licking drunk.

just a teensy bit hungover today (that was sarcasm, people. if you were to cut me right now i would probably bleed grey goose vodka) and now i get to drive 6 hours thru the california heat to get home. that drive is gonna suck ass, i'm guessing. i am so not looking forward to this drive. hey, this is 2005. according to the jetsons, aren't we supposed to have that technology by now that lets us teleport from one place to another? i would really like a teleporter right now. i really would.

Tuesday, July 26, 2005

the other day i was standing on the corner, waiting for the light to change so i could cross the street. while i was there, a man came up to me, looked down and said, "nice pedicure." the comment didn't strike me as ll that odd because i get that A LOT. and when it happens, it means one of two things:

1.) he is gay.2.) he is a straight man with a foot fetish.

usually, these guys fall into the second category. see, the thing is, i have very pretty feet. now, i am not one to brag on myself. in fact, my mom says i am not allowed to call myself ugly here anymore. it is verbotten. but i do know i have some nice features. i have good hair and lots of it, perfectly shaped lips and yes, pretty feet. i think the good hair is meant to make up for the unfortunate thighs, but it doesn't. it really doesn't. i so got screwed on that deal.

i get pedis every two weeks and tend to wear shoes that show a lot of foot. so, if there is a man within a five mile radius with a foot fetish, he will find me. i was once at a party and spent 30 minutes talking to a guy that never once looked me in the face. he spent the whole time looking at my feet and wiping the drool off of his chin. admittedly, my feet were looking super pretty that day. blood red polish and red strappy, sexy shoes. now i know how girls with big boobs feel when guys talk directly to their chests.

part of me is tempted to post a pics of my tootsies here just so you can see how very pretty they are, but i know better. i have a traffic meter on this site and it allows me to see what people have googled that brought them here. can i just say that there are some sick ass motherfuckers out there with high speed internet connections?

here are some things that people have googled that landed them here:

1.) john mayer nude - girls, if there were naked pics of my man out there, i would have found them by now. but, if perchance you do happen to run across some, please feel free to email a high-res copy of them to jellyblog@hotmail.com - just to prove me wrong, you know.

2.) fat chicks in capris - why? why? why? who has capri fetish? man, people will get off on ANYTHING! if you were to tell me that there are people in this world with a campbell's soup can fetish and that they beat off looking at pics of chicken noodle, i honestly don't think i would be all that surprised. i wouldn't be able to eat soup for a long time, but i would not be surprised.

3.) enemas - people google many variations on that theme. i can't even bring myself to tell you about all of them.

4.) hot asian chicks - god, that phrase gets googled more than any other. yellow fever has reached epidemic proportions. can't we vaccinate men against this?

so, knowing that, there is no way in hell i am going to post pics of my feet. i would see some guy google "foot fetish" and then see that he had spent 40 minutes on this site, and i would know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was spanking the monkey while looking at my feet. with that knowledge, the last little happy part of me would shrivel up and die. and then i would be bitter and unlovable. the ray of sunshine that is me would fade away and all that would be left is a kate spade purse full of cynicism and despair.

i guy i dated once asked me if he could suck my toes. i did not come right out and say "no" but i think the look of pure horror on my face conveyed the message fairly well. you see, the irony of this is, i can't stand to have my feet touched. can't stand it and will scream like a howler monkey on crack if you even try.

Tuesday, July 19, 2005

i know it's not december yet, but something reminded me of this the other day, and i feel compelled to share. let me set the scene: christmas day at granny's.

cast of characters:me - cute as a button as alwaysmom - cute as a button as always, Sr.granny - 73 years old and sharp as a tackgrandpa - 90 years old and still somewhat sharpmy uncle - he's not a complicated man, but funny as hellmy brother - Lord God King of the Dorksmy brother's girlfriend - now, the first time the family met her, my mom turned to me and said, "could my son please just date ONE woman with all her teeth?" later that same day, it came up in conversation that i have a few tattoos. in all earnestness, this chick turned to me and asked, "oh, did you get those done in a shop?" where did she think i got them? juvie? did she expect me to say, "oh yeah, i was serving a nickel for armed robbery and got some ink while i was in the big house." so, you now know all you need to know about her.

the ritual gorging (why, yes, i would love a 3rd helping of pie!) is over. my family and i are bloated, sick to our stomachs, yet, still eyeballing the leftover ham. it's time to open presents!

presents are ripped open and oohed and aahed over appropriately. the grandparents know me well, they know what i like, so they give me cash. my uncle also knows me really well, and he too gives me cash. so far, so good.

now it's time for my brother and his girlfriend to give us their presents. for the sake of brevity, the girlfriend shall hence forth be known as Snaggletooth. so, Snaggle hands me a box. i rip it open to find what can only be described as the ugliest ashtray in the WORLD. it's a ceramic dog laying on it's back with all four paws in the air. the ashtray rests on the paws. temporarily speechless in the face of such a glaring example of Redneck Decor, i muttered some kind of thank you.

next, they hand my mom her box of presents. now, what you need to know about my mom is that the nose on her face is wholly decorative. it serves no other purpose than holding her glasses up. she cannot smell a thing. nothing. if there was a rotting, decaying buzzard in the room, she would not know it until she stepped on it and heard the squish. that being said, she opens her box to find one of those cheap ass, swap meet quality Gel Candles. she takes the lid off of the candle and sniffs. mom's face went two shades whiter than i had thought humanly possible. she QUICKLY replaced the lid and choked out a thank you. i then made the tragic mistake of sniffing the candle myself. i now know what hell smells like.

Snaggletooth gives my grandfather his gift. with much anticipation on our part, he opens it and pulls out the fugliest fleece lined indian moccasins known to man. in addition to being butt ugly, they are HUGE. grandpa is a tiny man. hell, he was over 90 years old and had been shrinking for years. these slippers were so big he could have crawled into them and taken a nap.

then Snaggles hefts a box over to the table where my uncle is sitting. before she hands him his treasure she asks, "do you like cheese?"

"um, yeah."

she drops the box on the table. it landed with a THUD! so we knew it was either a cannonball or a shitload of cheese. he opens it to find, surprise, a two pound ball of swiss cheese. when Snaggles was out of earshot he turned to me and said, "why does she want to make sure i never poop again?"

soon after, Snaggles and King Dork leave. in the spirit of my family, we (mom, me, granny and uncle) start to make fun of the gifts because we firmly believe The Family That Snarks Together, Stays Together. all this time, my grandfather has been quiet.

after about 15 minutes of us marvelling at the wonder that is the cheese ball of death he says, "don't make fun of them. they can't help it if they are retarded."

Wednesday, July 13, 2005

i don't try to be a bitch, but sometimes my mouth acts faster than my brain. mom can attest to this. when it happens, she steps slowly away from me and looks around like, "i don't know that lunatic, never met her in my life. nope." but the fact that i look exactly like her usually tips people off. however, i can usually exercise some self control. i am not completely unevolved. i exhibited so much restraint today i should get a fucking medal.

i am sitting at panda express, eating my lunch, reading a book and minding my own business, like the good little girl i am. i generally go sit in the back corner so as not to be disturbed. i am happily chowing down on my yummy yummy orange chicken when 3 men come and sit at the table next to mine. i ignore them and continue eating.

they start talking. now, i wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but they weren't trying to be quiet, either. one man is bemoaning the fact that his wife put on "tons of weight" when she was pregnant.

"yeah dude, she used to weigh 127, but then she ballooned up to 160!!! she's so fucking fat!"

deep breaths, jelly, deep breaths. now, my instinct was to turn to him and say, "OH.MY.GOD. one hundred sixty pounds! jesus h. christ, have you considered gastric bypass surgery for her? will richard simmons have to come to your house and cut a wall down to pry her fat ass out of there? you poor, poor thing, you must have to wear a blindfold when you fuck her. you are a SAINT for not leaving her, a freaking SAINT!"

but i kept my mouth shut because this place is right near my office and lots of people from my work were there. they think i am nice. they do not need to know the truth.

so, i am sitting there, fuming, thinking, "who is this redneck asshole?" i was expecting some lowlife, nascar watching, beer swilling, joe ray bob type to be sitting there, scratching his ass while spouting this neanderthal bullshit. i slide my eyes over in his direction and found out i was WRONG. this dude had a shirt and tie and looked like joe average businessman. people, THEY WALK AMONG US. this jerkwad cut off his mullet, fixed his teeth and passes for normal. well, until he opens his mouth, anyway.

and may i just point out that this adonis was half bald and had a pot belly? yeah buddy, i am sure your "fat" wife loves looking at you naked, too. never mind the fact that she GREW A HUMAN BEING inside of her. oh, so sorry she had to put on a few pounds to nourish your demon spawn.

i contemplated grabbing my plastic knife and jabbing him in the nads with it. but i took the high road and calmly cleared my tray and walked out. i am maturing so fast, i might almost be mistaken for a reasonable adult. almost.

Tuesday, July 12, 2005

apparently, i come from a long line of early developing, big boobed she women. of course, you would not know this to look at me. i didn't get my boobs until high school. all the other women in my family started their periods at age 8 or 9. so, as a pre-emptive strike, mom gave me "the talk" when i was 8 years old. she explained what i could expect and showed me how to use a maxi pad. well, Little Miss Late Bloomer Jelly didn't get her first period until she was 13 years old.

so, there i am, age 13, not shocked, but a little surprised. i was calm because i figured i knew what to do. it happened during school hours, so i got my dime (yes, back then, they were only a dime in the vending machines), went to bathroom, and bought a pad out of the machine and took care of business.

flash forward about 4 hours. i knew it was time to "change the pad." (god, is there a grosser sentence than that?) i go to the bathroom, and quickly yank the pad away.

*insert scream of bloody murder* (no pun intended)

i had stuck the pad to MYSELF and NOT to my panties. that was my first at home bikini wax.

Sunday, July 10, 2005

i went to a child's birthday party yesterday. not usually my favorite way to spend a saturday afternoon. did you know they don't serve drinks at these events? but i actually love these kids, so i go and sit thru endless games of musical chairs and pinata bashing. as part of the entertainment, the family hired a magician. it was a female magician and her assistant, Peanuts, who appeared to be her 13 year old daughter dressed as a clown. that girl may be hating her life right now, but in 10 years she will be able to write a really interesting coming of age memoir. "Peanuts, A Childhood Coated in Greasepaint and the Stench of Humiliation."

the magician looked, for lack of a better term, rode hard and put away wet. she had the look of an ex smack addict that has gotten clean and turned her life around. i imagine she had no legal, marketable skills, so she bought a book on magic and hit the kid's party circuit. she is no longer high on dope, she's high on MAGIC!

as i watched her show, i realized that she had most likely incorporated some of her old druggie skills and lifestyle into her act. stick with what you know, as they say.

this is the rabbit she uses in the act. she now calls him SnoBall, but i'm pretty certain he used to answer to the name 8-Ball.

here she is performing the classic rope trick. i am not sure how it works, but those are probably the ropes she used to use to tie off with. she gets 2 points for recycling!

the sleight of hand tricks she used to shoplift groceries and tampons back in the day are now part of her "now you see it, now don't" tricks.

LOOK! no more track marks! it's magic!

yes, this is how i amuse myself at kid's parties.

and just for kicks and giggles, here is a pic of my best friend. the party had a superhero theme and everyone was supposed to wear costumes. he was Underdog.i am usually exempt from having to wear one because i have to drive 3 hours to get there (yes, i love these kids THAT much), so they let me slide. driving that long in a costume is NOT fun. trust me, i have done it. and there is no joy like stopping for gas and soda dressed like Pocohantas in the middle of the day.

Thursday, July 07, 2005

my obssession with the lovely Mr. John Mayer is really not too surprising. i have loads of celebrity crushes, but what is surprising is that John Mayer appears to be straight and somewhat masculine. see, that's kind of a new one for me. most of my celeb heart throbs tend to be a little on the, shall we say, girly side. i am not talking about my girl crushes, i am talking about the men.

my longest, all time favorite, number one, forever and ever crush is on

oh, my beloved Nick Rhodes. i have been head over heels for this guy for well over 20 years now. i can distinctly remember the first time i saw him. it's like it was yesterday. "Planet Earth" was their first big single. i was watching mtv and that video came on and my heart just STOPPED. i was IN LOVE. and i still am. he could have a horribly disfiguring battery acid accident and i would STILL jump on him and ride him until he cracked a rib.

my preteen diaries were filled with pages and pages professing my undying love him and i just KNEW we would be together one day. still hasn't happened, but if i don't have hope, then i have NOTHING.

i love every single thing about him. the makeup, the overly stylized hair, his slight frame. yup, love it all.

it gets worse. one of my more recent celeb crushes is a transvestite. yes, you read that correctly.

oh, Eddie Izzard melts my butter. yes, the guy in the skirt puts me in a naughty frame of mind. he's hotter than a woodchuck''s ass in august. and couple that with the fact that he is freaking brilliant, well, let's just say he wouldn't even have to buy me dinner first.

my taste in men might seem a little disturbing. hell, it disturbs me sometimes. i don't know what it is about boys in makeup, but it works for me. but if we look a little deeper, we will see that, really, i am genetically preprogrammed to like the girly boys.

take it back one generation. who is my mom's all time crush? which beefcake makes her heart pitter patter?

the legendary, and openly gay Richard Chamberlin. mom knows he's a member of the queer boy nation, and she always has. she doesn't care. she still wants him. she wants him BAD. you know what the highlight of the 1980's was for her? it wasn't my graduation from a very prestigious private school, or her son graduating, or her meteoric career rise. nope, it was "The Thorn Birds." five sensuous nights of him as priest lusting after maggie. mom was like a giddy little school girl that week. she finally calmed down from that, then "Shogun" came along. she about died and went to heaven that week.

so, it would maybe seem that this maybe runs in the family. well, here's where we cement the deal. let's go back one more generation.

my granny's current celeb crush

and yes, granny knows he is gay, and no, she doesn't care either. she thinks he's "cute." granny just loves Alan Cummings. i once called her to let her know that he was on a talk show that i was watching. she said, "thanks. what channel? ok, talk to you later." she hung up without even saying goodbye. i was stunned! usually it takes about 20 minutes to get my granny off the phone. i guess that makes him Granny Phone Kryptonite. but then she called me after the show was over to talk about how "cute" he was in the interview. he had talked about going commando underneath his kilt and the chafing that it caused, and she thought it was "cute." i think she might even have giggled at one point. as owen meany would say, "THAT GAVE ME THE SHIVERS."

find me a boy that shops at sephora more often than i do and that can walk in 3-inch heels better than i do, and i will be saying "I Do."

Sunday, July 03, 2005

i'm not real proud of this, but i have never missed one episode of mtv's "the real world." nope, not one. i even managed to watch the whole dreadful paris season. yeah, THAT'S dedication, baby. that one was mindnumbingly dull. but, i watched. and now i am a little dumber for having done so, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

so, of course, i have been watching the new austin season. and it occured to me. where's the gay guy? we ALWAYS have at least one gay guy. hell, last season, we got two. and the two psycho sluts kissing in the hot tub in the first episode DO NOT COUNT. i HATE chicks that make out with each other just to get guys hot. i just wanted to hold their heads underwater until the kicking stopped.

the last few seasons have been a hedonistic fest of drinking and fucking and drinking and fucking and drinking and fucking. the girls are probably just submitting porn tapes in lieu of audition tapes. and the guys probably send in videos of themselves getting arrested for DUI's.

i miss the old seasons when the people were actually *gasp* interesting, thinking individuals. remember Julie from the first season? she was the dancer from alabama. it was so fascinating to watch her in "the big city" learning about new people and generally growing as person. the last little southern girl we had was Trishelle from the las vegas season. the only thing she learned about new people was whether or not they were circumsized. and every season since then, there has been at least one nasty little hobag in the house. who ARE these girls? my god, they spread their legs more often than a chinese acrobat.

in the confessionals, these girls will look right into the camera and declare, "i love sex. i can't go 3 days without getting laid. this year alone i have slept with 23 guys. yeah, it's been a slow year for me." do they have mothers? grandmothers? now, my granny doesn't watch a lot of mtv (that i know of, but you never know with her) but if i were on tv, i know she would tune in. she would have a STROKE if i said that on national tv. now, i can't speak for these other chicks, but i ain't trying to kill my granny.

and who are they putting out for? the guys of the last few seasons have mostly been alcoholic frat boys with rage issues. i wouldn't let any of those losers glimpse my panties, let alone sleep with them. eeeewwwww.

and where's this season's angry black chick? god help me, i never thought i would say this, but i actually miss Coral. these drunken sluts are too busy buying cases of monistat 7 to get angry about racial inequalities, real or imagined. but, i bet if you threatened to make g-strings illegal, these tramps would take to the streets in protest. NO THONGS, NO PEACE!

i guess the gays weren't promiscuous enough for mtv. which totally makes me laugh, because the christian coalition would LOVE to have you believe that gays are immoral, non stop fucking machines that do nothing more than spread disease. but every season, it's been the straight cast members who have been fucking like bunnies. take THAT jerry falwell!!